


The Sleeping Prince

by were_duck



Series: Mother always said there were no monsters [2]
Category: Aliens (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_duck/pseuds/were_duck





	The Sleeping Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyryk (s_k)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/gifts).



Some legends have their roots in myth or morality, while others come from simple fact.

That simple fact is, some spells are laid and then forgotten, their bindings encasing the bearer like a cocoon, silken threads impervious to the ravages of the years, and so often they outlast their origins.

Who can say what the king's magician meant to accomplish an age of ages ago when he cast the prince into a sleep that could only be broken by true love or true terror? Whatever the cause, it is long forgotten, and only the caveats whispered into the very fiber of the magics matter now, after the caster and everyone he knew had fallen into dust and scant memory.

Such was the fact of the spell that bound the sleeping prince.

In the end, it was a scream heard by no one, smothered in a desperate palm, that reached across seven hundred leagues and twisted into her heart, wrenching her awake.

The Prince coughed, wiping the crumbling film of stale sweat from her face. It took several minutes to pull the heavy oaken bar from the door, her muscles protesting from disuse. The last glamour of concealm  
ent fell away as she stumbled into the throne room and collapsed at the feet of a dozen shocked dignitaries.

"I am Ripley, child of King Hart, and I have been woken from a magician's spell to fight the dragons that threaten the realm."

The royal council wittered amongst themselves, verifying her identity by the royal signet on her finger and her obvious resemblance to the late prince's portrait. The matter of her gender caused some consternation among the recordkeepers, who hated to admit that some of their earlier predecessors kept rather incomplete and poorly archived notes.

Impatient for action, the Prince beat her fist against the great table in the council chamber. "I need warriors, supplies, and horses. We must ride at first light."

"But, Highness, you must understand, dragons have never been sighted in the kingdom, not in living memory! We have crops to plant, taxes to collect; there are no men to spare chasing fanciful creatures! I'm sorry, my Lady, but that is all," the current king's young magician, Burke, explained, condescension dripping from his voice.

"They must be stopped! If even one of these demonspawn reaches human settlement, then _that_ will be _all_ ," she cried, fear and conviction driving her temper.

So it was that the council grudgingly spared a small force of the kingdom's finest warriors, and the Prince took the young king's magician to scry for the hellish monsters of her waking nightmare. 

They covered the leagues, moving hard to the north and west. The Prince found herself set apart from the cocksure warriors of her company, but gained respect for them despite their coarse language and rugged ways. As they climbed the mountains, she watched the inscrutable magician, who failed to hide the speculative looks he cast towards her when he thought she wasn't looking.

One warrior in particular appealed to her in their travels: Vasquez, a brash young woman with arms like hewn oak trunks, whose quick temper and quicker wit set her above her company. One night, late into the watch she and the Prince shared, Vasquez murmured that Burke was in search of the key to the dragon's magic.

"He's not the only magician," Vasquez said wryly, and handed Ripley a vial of clear liquid. "Bishop from the North gave me this. Said it burns monsters." The Prince nodded, pocketing the vial.

When they reached the mountains, it little surprised the Prince to find a village had been laid to waste, telltale burns on the stone walls of the inn, cottages torn apart.

They found the girl hiding in the loft of the goat pen, and her staring eyes locked with the Prince's with a desperation the Prince couldn't shake. Ripley reached up and took the girl, kicking and fighting, into the nearest hovel.

The warriors searched the village for more dragon sign while the Prince stayed with the girl, calming her and waiting, her nerves jangling, for confirmation of the truth she already knew. She took silent note of the ragged state of her hair and the bit of doll she clutched in her fingers.

"What is your name?" the Prince asked. There must have been something calm in her voice, because the girl said, almost imperceptibly, 'Newt. My name's Newt," and threw herself into Ripley's arms.

"My mother said there were no monsters," she whispered into Ripley's hair. "But there are."

"Yes," Ripley said, gaze level, "there are, aren't there."

The warriors' screams interrupted them, and Vasquez, four of her warriors, and the magician burst into the building as the Prince hefted her sword. Burke swept the girl into his arms and they fled the hovel, the women flanking him and fending off steel-jawed creatures of nightmare in a desperate bid for safety.

The dragons were swift and huge, crawling like vicious insects over the rooftops and dropping upon their prey with talons and teeth rending the warriors' armor as if it were flesh. They picked off the company like cats toying with mice, seeming almost to delight in their victims' screams of fear and agony.

The Prince and Vasquez forged ahead, the loss of each of their warriors lending brutal efficiency to their swords. By the time they gained the mountain caves, they had lost all of the other warriors, with only Burke's swiftly whispered spells and the fighters' grim desperation repelling the monsters.

In the end, it was not enough. The Prince and Vasquez were backed against a cliff face by a thrumming, hissing pack of dragons when the child's screams began.

"Newt! No!" Ripley cried, hacking her way between monsters and sprinting desperately down the hill, but she was far too late.

The child had been taken by dragons.


End file.
